In My Place
by newslayer
Summary: {N/S} Anger and alcohol never mixed well... (S/G fans restrain yourselves)


**IN MY PLACE**

**Disclaimer:** No, sadly enough I don't owe anything but the plot here. Otherwise I wouldn't be wasting time in this (*huge* lie). 

**Author's Note:** Hence another episode of the pathetic songfics saga I'm dedicated to. Sorry, I really wanted to write something longer and more serious - especially regarding CSI - but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. This is my first fic completely dedicated to CSI. Yes, I'm still working through this writer's block that's been driving me crazy. 

The song is **"In My Place" by Coldplay**, from their album 'A Rush Of Blood To The Head' (if you still don't know who they are, the singer Chris Martin is Gwyneth Palthrow's boyfriend). 

**Rating: **Take a guess. Yes, PG, PG-13. This is **N/S** (as it'll always be) but there is not much **'S'** going on by now. It's more like babbling. People in the state described below are either pathetic or completely funny (to those watching), or both. So this came out kinda fluffy. 

By the way, none of the things said below were meant to be offensive, so my most sincere and heart felt apologies if you take them personally. 

**Dolly, thanx for Beta reading!**

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Catherine heard the door open and felt the wind pass her by almost knocking her off -- excepting for the fact that it wasn't the wind. It was Nick. A very pissed Nick Stokes, she noticed, who - muttering something under his breath - had just rushed to the locker room without even bothering to say hi. She checked on her watch. It was time for him to leave indeed, which, after a double shift and being given the night off, usually meant her young coworkers would be in a hurry. That was no surprise. His moody ways were the novelty. 

The brunette had always been the easy-going, people person of the group. And it was a matter that went beyond his appealing looks, his smile, or the high school quarterback stereotype that he impersonated most of the time. It wasn't about the accent or his 'boy scout' attitude. 

She wondered if her eyes hadn't tricked her, if it had been him the one to act so rudely. The repetitive violent smashing of his locker's door confirmed her right. 

********* 

Warrick made a futile attempt at scanning the room through the moving crowd. The lack of success didn't matter much, he already knew where to find him. The odd tone in her voice had been enough to give him perspective on the situation, and the distinctive sight of his silhouette leaning on the bar proved him right. 

"Hey" He approached him, feeling his sideways glare burn a hole in his shoulder. Nick snorted sarcastically, bitterly. As if he had been expecting someone to intrude in his moment of misery. That was all he did to acknowledge his friend's presence before returning to the second shot of tequila he was having or so the other man counted by the empty glass in front of him. 

After ordering a beer and spending a couple of uncomfortable minutes just sitting there, he decided to make the most of the few minutes out he had gotten from Grissom. He wasn't about to waste time when he knew exactly where he wanted to get. 

"Sara?" He simply stated more than asked. 

The warning their blonde partner had given him had reminded Warrick of a previous conversation, regarding the present subject. Both had noticed her erratic behavior after the explosion in the lab, behavior that had continued if not increased after a few weeks. She had never been one to snap at people without apparent reasons or disregard direct orders; besides she seemed more and more withdrawn as time passed, more secluded, more isolated. She was putting herself both physically and emotionally at risk, and they worried. Nick had volunteered to talk to her, seeing as it was 'the one thing he knew how to do best'. He had seen them on a break earlier that day talking affably in the parking lot, but apparently it hadn't gone that well. 

The Texan smirked again while nodding, this time looking at him straight in the eyes. 

"Do you know how we never talk about anything meaningful at work, Warrick? Well, there's a reason to it" His accent had grown thicker with the alcohol. 

"What?" 

_In my place, in my place,_   
_were lines that I couldn't change,_   
_I was lost, oh yeah_

"C'mon, don't tell me you haven't noticed!" He ordered himself another drink before resuming his train of thought. "We were so self-centered we never saw Grissom losing his hearing. We barely showed any compassion to Catherine when Eddie died, or to Greg after the explosion. What kind of friendship is that?" 

"Nick..." 

"No, I mean generally, not just us. We've worked here for how long, man? I bet no one remembers my birthday. Want to know how I know? Because I barely remember theirs. We talk about everything with the depth of a high school prom queen" 

He swallowed hard the liquid. 

"I figured out there is a place for everyone of us in the team. There's boundaries, limits, lines. Things we can do and things we're not even supposed to think about" 

"Do you get philosophical when you are drunk, man?" 

"You don't understand..." 

"Darn right I don't." He was losing his temper. "What does this have to do with..." 

"I should've never talked to her!" 

_I was lost, I was lost,_   
_crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed,_   
_I was lost, oh yeah_

Warrick was trying his best to make sense out of his friend's rant. He presumed the best was letting him babble until he explained himself. That way at least he wouldn't go into an alcoholic coma before wrapping up the topic. 

"She asked him out" 

It took him half a second to realize whom he meant by 'she' and 'him'. 

Sara and Grissom shared a previous friendship, as it came obvious to them after starting to work with her. But the closeness hadn't been a cause of discomfort among the group seeing as she easily found her way into everyone's hearts. She had hit it off with Nick from minute one, him being the charming one. They flirted harmlessly but shamelessly also, in contrast to the brotherly relationship she had established with her other male partner, himself. The difference annoyed him from time to time, but he figured he had gotten the best part. Blood bonds were forever. 

Yet they had silently witnessed her attention slowly gravitating back to Grissom, for whatever reason. Their whole balance had suffered and although he had never had the heart to tell his friend, he wondered sometimes if the circumstance had anything to do with her growing somber ways. 

On the other side his suspicions hadn't ceased to involve his now definitely wasted partner who, he presumed, had developed feelings for her somewhere along the line. How deep, he didn't know -- and frankly he didn't care, because the man beside him wasn't anywhere near acknowledging them. 

Still, for the second time in the night, he had been proven right. With so many assumptions and speculation, no wonder he was one hell of a gambler. 

"Ouch" Not very bright with words, though. 

Silence told him it was worse than that. 

"Bastard rejected her" And with that off his chest, the noticeable amount of alcohol going through his veins started working its way through his inhibitions. 

"I thought that's what you wanted" 

"Lesson one, my friend" Nick slurred turning to face him for the first time in the night "to women 's stubborn 's Sara, rejection is just another way of encouragement" 

"First mistake, Stokes. Do not underestimate her" He shook her head, picturing the look in her eyes after hearing the latter statement. There was no 'women like Sara'; she refused to be labeled. 

The brunette dismissed the comment without much thought. Not that he was much capable of thinking in his current state. 

"Please, do you think this is something knew? He's had her wrapped around his pinkie for years! Depending on his every word and wish..." He snarled and motioned to the bartender. Warrick had lost count of the drinks he'd had long ago. 

"Give him some credit. This is Gris we're talkin' 'bout" His efforts to calm him down were doing nothing but increase his resentment. 

"Yeah, Gil Grissom. Emotionally challenged scientist extraordinare: witness and perish! Bastard 's making her pay for his issues. He'll force her to live the life according to Grissom. She's gonna analyze it to death, wondering why he won't give the time of day. She'll think it's because of her and not just his screwed up mind and she'll just work harder to be like him!" 

_Yeah, how long must you wait for him?_   
_Yeah, how long must you pay for him?_   
_Yeah, how long must you wait for him, for him_

"Maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to --" 

"Darn right I shouldn't have!" He replied slamming his fist hard on the bar with a little too much enthusiasm. That was it, time to convince him to get a cab and call it a night, before things got uglier. "Not my place, not my thing. Shouldn't care at all!" 

"Yeah, yeah" 

"And you" He pointed fiercely "shouldn't care either 'cuz she's gonna wait for him 'till hell freezes over, she's too darn scared to do otherwise, she's too scared..." 

Again with the slurring, Nick had started to get tongue-tied, choking on the words. With a little luck on their side, fifteen more minutes and he would pass out without causing any trouble. He could already see himself making his way through the crowd carrying who knows how many pounds of dead weight. Warrick was past the point of making him reason, and the monologue had just started. 

_I was scared, I was scared,_   
_tired and underprepared_   
_But I wait for you_

"I'm telling you, Warrick. Scared enough she might even think about running away. Leaving... Leaving!" 

The CSI had never seen him like that before. Sure they were friends outside the crime lab - or so he liked to think after his partner's previous rant - and had partied together many times before. But the Texan could usually hold his drink quite well, which made him wonder - not for the first time - what and how much had he drunk before he had found him. 

At that moment the alcohol was exciting his brain cells, destroying a considerable portion worth saving, making him extremely unstable. The scientific explanation made complete sense as he saw him, for the first time, burst into tears like a two-year-old. 

"Leaving!" He sobbed loudly and grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt in an overdramatic gesture. "What are *we* going to do without Sara!" His cries were finally earning them a few spectators "What am *I* gonna do without Sara!" 

_If you go, if you go,_   
_Leave me down here on my own_   
_Then I wait for you_

And that was it. The vehemence of his movements had knocked over Warrick's untouched - but still very open - bottle of beer. Destination: his pants of course. Everything had a limit, and his patience was not the exception that confirmed the rule. 

"What is *wrong* with you, man?" He practically shouted while standing up harshly, pushing the other man away. His first impulse was trying to save his clothes, but looking down, there was not much to do about that. Of course, there was something else he wanted to take care of. 

"Sit down!" He ordered, but not satisfied by that he also pushed his friend back down into his seat. Nicholas Stokes had sobered up considerably, but was still a pitiful version of his usual self. "Cut it out, man!" 

His friend looked at him confused, as if he didn't remember the previous minutes. Warrick was shifting positions, waiting to calm down with little success. 

"I have no idea what you're talking 'bout" Playing innocent was not the best conscious decision. Then again, he was barely conscious. 

"Just cut the crap!" He said a little too loud "You don't get to play the vic here, Nick, because you're not. You think I haven't noticed?" 

A huge amount of valuable brain cells were officially MIA. He continued, not minding if the man beside him didn't follow. Drunk as he was, he was bound to not register anything of what he was going to say, anyway. 

"Had it been somebody other than Sara you would've been all over it" He vented "getting involved, offering comfort or advice although no one ever asks you to. So where is your sociability now? You just don't stick your nose in her business?" 

"Gee, War, sorry for caring about you... didn't know I was such a pain in the--" 

"*You*" It was his turn to point furiously "You were the one who grew apart from her. *You* acting all shy around her all of the sudden! True, she turned back to Grissom, but you didn't even pose an objection" 

"Why in hell would I want to--" 

"Look, you're sittin' here getting trashed" He rubbed his eyes and sighed tiredly. He was going to need an extra dose of really strong coffee tonight "I swear Nick, sometimes I think *you* are the one waiting for Gris to make his move" 

_Yeah, how long must you wait for him?_   
_Yeah, how long must you pay for him?_   
_Yeah, how long must you wait for him, for him_

The statement froze him. His stare had become slowly grave and harsh. 

"He'll come around eventually man, you know he will. He's not stupid." His tone had softened "And you know what, I'm not going to be here listening as you whine when that happens or if she ever decides to leave. Because you don't deserve it. You're not even fighting for her. You gave her up." 

"We're talking about grown people here, Warrick. People that make their own choices." The drinking had suddenly been forgotten and the shadow of anger and resentment had returned to cross Nick's features once again, words still echoing inside his head. 

"Yeah, but you're going to be here wallowing in misery anyway. You're going to be here wondering why did she choose him, or why did she leave, and you'll regret it. You'll regret doing nothing, or maybe not." 

He finally stood up, frustrated. Glancing at his watch, he noticed how long he had been there. Darn. Grissom would have him for breakfast. He didn't even want to think that his shift had just started. 

"It doesn't matter. You still don't get my pity. 'Cause as far as I can see you're just as bad as Gris, probably worse. You're either really scared or really stupid." 

But the look on his friend's eyes broke his heart, and he couldn't help but pat him soundly in the back. Then motioned to his clothes. 

"I have to go and get changed before heading back to the lab. Some of us actually *work* tonight" 

His smile tried to lighten the mood, but it was helpless. Turning to leave, he stopped for a second to make eye contact one more time. And staring right into his eyes, he pried one last question. 

"What's it going to be, Nick?" 

_Saying please, please, please_   
_Come back and sing to me_   
_To me, me_   
_Come on and sing it out, now, now_   
_Come on and sing it out, to me, me_   
_Come back and sing it_

"What's it going to be, Nick?" 

The words sounded urgent, and his current solitude didn't seem to diminish the need for an answer. The riddle was real. He could defy all he believed was coherent and well established and actually go for her, or dismiss all those thoughts for good. 

So basically he was where he had started. Was it possible or even worth to try and pursue whatever he was harboring? He wasn't even sure about that. And it wasn't like the path was clear. In fact, he wasn't even sure that whatever he attempted to try wouldn't be completely useless. What was the point of creating more confusion? He couldn't change the world, he had accepted that long ago. And he couldn't change what was cursed to be. 

_In my place, in my place,_   
_were lines that I couldn't change,_   
_and I was lost, oh yeah_   
_Oh yeah_

Gasping for air he watched after Warrick. Maybe it was time for him to go home too. He paid for his drinks and asked for a cab. Stumbling his way out his seat, he turned around, trying to get a hold on himself. 

And there she was, making him remember that she wasn't on duty. Sara had actually pulled herself away from the lab on her night off. Things were changing and he could feel it. 

She stepped forward tentatively, the lights dimmed everywhere else and he couldn't think of anything to say or do other than standing still, gaping like a fool. Their eyes met and she smiled softly, surprised to see him there. 

Suddenly or not, the riddle had vanished -- a sole course of action remained as a valid option. And it was final. 

- DONE 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________   
_Written by Mary S. OK, don't kill me. I had a blast writing this thing! I never said it would make sense. Besides, when drunken people's thoughts are coherent? Isn't that what getting drunk is all about? Another fic is coming, some sort of companion piece/sequel to this one. Soon, really soon, I promise._


End file.
